Even if it had been what she wanted.
How the hell were they going to get down now? She could barely see her hand in front of her face. Then she remembered . . . Oh, thank god for corporate clients.
‘We do have a torch,’ she said, pulling her rucksack on to her lap. She opened one of the long side pockets, took out waterproofs and some other small bits and pieces that she could barely see in the dark. Finally, her fingers found a small plastic box and she lifted it out of the bag and flipped open the lid. Inside was a silver mini-Maglite, branded with a company name: Epic Solutions. ‘I know the proper torch went in Ginny’s bag – which, by the way, was a very stupid decision in hindsight—’
‘A lot of this was quite stupid, in hindsight,’ Tristan said, ‘but she wasn’t meant to go over the side with her rucksack still strapped to her back.’
She ignored his jibe. ‘I got this at that trade fair in Ascot, would you believe. I liked that it was in its own little case, so I just tossed it in.’
Tristan laughed. ‘Oh, the irony.’ He took the torch from her and clicked it on. It was small, but the beam was pretty decent.
She snatched it back from him. ‘I’ll have that, thank you. Seeing as I was the only one to think of emergencies.’
He took her face in his hands. Kissed her nose. ‘And this, my little Kitty-Cat, is why I love you.’
She let him kiss her properly then, and as he did, she managed to push away her earlier thoughts about what she’d done. What he’d done, too. And about his anger and violence. Just the stress, she decided. Who wouldn’t be stressed in a situation like this? She pulled back. ‘I suppose we’d better get going. You know the way, right? We don’t have to go all the way up these steps, do we?’ She laid a hand on her stomach, without thinking. The nausea was gone for now, but it might come back.
Tristan didn’t seem to notice. He hadn’t mentioned the whole ‘you’re throwing up so you must be pregnant thing’， distracted by the later happenings, but no doubt it would slot back into his mind again soon and then they’d have to have that conversation.
‘I need the torch,’ he said. He’d pulled the map out of the plastic pocket that was in one of his pockets. He’d taken the lanyard off when he climbed down the mountain. She sat closer to him as he shone the torch over the slightly wrinkled paper. ‘OK, so we’re nearly back to where we were meant to be, I think. After the diversion. We just need to get up this bit, then we’re away from the edge and around the top of one of the meadows.’
Cat was confused. ‘Right, so after that, we’re no longer on the edge overlooking the valley? Where’s the bit where we were actually supposed to . . . you know.’ Despite what she’d done, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She knew it would all sink in later. But for now, it was best to stick to the practicalities.
Tristan refolded the map and slipped it back into the plastic wallet, then put it in the side pocket of his shorts. He and Paul had been wearing similar cargo shorts, with multiple pockets. She pictured Paul, slipping something into his, not long before he’d fallen. Thinking about it, did she really know what any of them were carrying? She’d brought the torch that no one else knew about. Paul had clearly had something that he didn’t want her to see. And god knows what Tristan might have stashed in his pockets and his bag. But as long as he had what they needed to get through the night, she was just going to have to trust him.
‘It won’t be too long until we make it to the shelter, babe. Try not to worry. Yes, things have not gone entirely to plan, but we got the job done.’ He stood up and picked up his rucksack. ‘You carry the torch – it’ll make you feel better.’
She stood up, took hold of his elbow. ‘You didn’t answer my question. I said where was the part where Ginny and Paul were supposed to have the accident?’
He frowned, shrugging her off. ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’
He started walking, keeping close to the inside; away from the edge. She shone the torch so it spilled out a muted yellow path for them both ahead. She tried not to think about what they were doing. About the danger they were in. If either of them slipped . . .
And she tried to push away his pissy attitude and vague replies.
Cat didn’t like the way he was being so dismissive of her. All the time when they’d been planning this trip, he’d been loving and caring. She’d seen a different Tristan to the one she usually saw with Ginny. To the one that Ginny spent her time complaining about. A sliver of icy fear slid down her back. She’d been too trusting.